'Peste! is she pretty?'
'I cannot say—she is an ecclesiastic.'
'Nom d'un Pape! and do you think to make me believe that you have travelled all the way from Paris with a pretty woman, without seeing so much as her face? Very likely, M. le Garde Ecossais!'
At that moment, Nicola in her sombre garb appeared at the huge Gothic porch of St. Bennet, where she looked around her irresolutely.
'Oho, M. l'Abbé,' said the reckless Marquis, 'there is your little penitent awaiting you. Pleasant this! by my faith, I shall doff the corslet, and don the cassock too—but a safe journey to you—au revoir!'
'Adieu!'
I raised my hat, and, followed by his two attendants, the Marquis galloped gaily down the road which led towards the forest wherein Nicola and I had passed the night.
On joining her, she greeted me with what was almost a caress; and whether it was the effect of her devotion I know not, but now she seemed placid, content, and even cheerful—yet my heart was still wrung.
'To-morrow we will be at Nanci; and on the morrow after we will be parted, Nicola, parted to meet no more,' said I, lifting her into her saddle.
'My dear, dear Arthur,' said she, bending her face close to mine; 'your accent and expression tear my heart with sorrow—you doubt me—oh! what shall I say, to convince, and to reassure you?'